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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27420649">mamihlapinatapei</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/loupettes/pseuds/loupettes'>loupettes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/M, Fluff, Slow Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:35:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,538</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27420649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/loupettes/pseuds/loupettes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“What do you want?” she whispered quietly, cautiously. She made a very conscious effort to keep her eyes on his, to keep a calm composure while she asked him a question that could change everything. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>But she watched his pupils dilate and he blinked and she knew she’d made a mistake. She wanted to chase it again, get back the warm glow of the morning she’d so pleasantly found herself waking up to. She’d misread the morning; she wanted to scream for ruining it. </i>
</p><p>Ten x Rose. Fluff (part 1.), Angst (part 2.) COMPLETE</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. "You're trembling."</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Part 1. Dialogue prompt: "You're trembling."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The light was warm on her cheeks when she first began to wake. It was artificial, of course; the TARDIS had adjusted the light in her room to create an ambience that replicated the Earth’s morning sun to help rouse her better. The second thing she felt was a light pressure on her waist that she registered as his arm; knowing that it was lazily slung over her meant that this must be one of those rare days she was awake before him. She opened one eye and discovered she was right.</p><p>She always loved seeing him like this: he’d buried half his face in the pillow, but his expression was calm and his breathing even. Of all the faces he showed everyone: the fury he saved for the merciless and the compassion he saved for the sorry, this was the one he saved only for her, when he felt safe enough to be himself. She cautiously reached out to brush the backs of her fingers across his cheekbone, ever so gently pressing their pads to his freckles, one by one, connecting the constellation points. She ghosted them under his eyes, trailing to his hair to brush it out of his face and smooth it down. She lightly combed through it; he must have been sleeping on one side all night because this side was unruffled. She smiled, it meant that he hadn’t had any nightmares.</p><p>He inhaled sleepily and she snatched her hand back, quick to withdraw it before he pulled one of his signature freakouts and put space between them for the next few days. Which, to be fair to him, he hadn’t really done recently. He was still for a moment before he sulked.</p><p>“Don’t stop. S’nice,” he mumbled into the pillow.</p><p>She grinned, a heat of adrenaline spreading from her centre and she reached back out to continue her movements. He hadn’t quite woken up fully yet, so she tried her best to be as soothing as possible, slowly and gently bringing him into consciousness. His brow furrowed and he reached for her hand, holding it steady.</p><p>“You’re trembling?”</p><p>Her breath caught and she swallowed it back down. He brought her hand down, tightly tucking it under his chin with his own. She was tense, watching him carefully; she couldn’t decide if he was deliberately putting on a calm face or if he genuinely was that comfortable displaying his affection. Either way, she couldn’t really understand either. <em>Bloody hell</em>, she thought. <em>Men are from Mars, sometimes they’re from Gallifrey.</em> </p><p>“Yeah, it’s… I dunno. I’ve always woken up a bit shaky in the mornings, ever since I was a kid.” He smiled and it was one that always warmed her heart, the smile he attributed to all things related to Rose before he met her. Stories from her childhood: the types of music she used to listen to, the trouble she’d cause with Shareen and the girls, days out with her Mum, that sort of stuff. “Mum says it’s something Dad used to have, some sort of tremor…” she trailed off, losing concentration on her words at the feel of his fingers so tenderly brushing across her hand and down towards her wrist. He gently pressed two of them into her pulse point, which she knew was betraying her tremendously at that moment. </p><p>“Liar.”</p><p>“Honest!”</p><p>He smirked, and she scoffed. He was so smug, reducing her to a puddle of nerves. She continued to watch him; his eyes hadn’t yet opened and his smirk had now softened and she felt dizzy. It was an addiction; she wanted to chase the moment, savour these times when his guard was down and she was as close to <em>him</em> as she could be.  </p><p>“And, I dunno, you also make me nervous, sometimes,” she blurted out.</p><p>He did open his eyes then, deep and brown, intensifying as his pupils adjusted to the light and she struggled to keep her face calm. </p><p>“I make you nervous?”</p><p>She laughed weakly, awkwardly pulling her hand from his and stuffing it under her pillow. She fidgeted a little, automatically wanting to be closer to him but knowing she couldn’t be at that moment, so she ended up awkwardly wiggling about in the same place. “Oh, I don’t know. S’not very often you let me <em>stroke </em>your<em> face, </em>is it?”</p><p>He chuckled, baffled. “I’m not an opossum, Rose.”</p><p>“No, no I know.” She breathed a sigh of relief at his joke. “Dunno, s’just like, I know what you’re like. With your physical boundaries and all that.”</p><p>“My physical boundaries?”</p><p>“Well, yeah.”</p><p>He stared back at her perplexed and she mentally cursed herself for her incessant need to fill the silence sometimes. He was looking at her expectantly and she <em>really</em> didn’t want to keep going, but she’d started now so she just simply had to suffer through the rest.</p><p>“Well, y’know. You have these… dunno, really clear boundaries that must never ever be crossed - ”</p><p>“Rose, your leg is securely hooked in between mine and my hand’s resting on your waist, I think we can both safely say the rules don’t apply to you.”</p><p>She laughed, the tension easing from her shoulders. They watched each other for a moment, smiling still, even though she was indeed becoming more aware of the location of her leg as time went on. It really <em>was</em> quite intimate. He pulled his hand from her waist and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear before mirroring her by burying it under his pillow, focusing now on her. If she’d have considered the way they were positioned at the moment 3 weeks ago, she would never have imagined they’d be here. Before then, he’d only spent the night here and there: when she’d lost her face, to look after her following the psychograft, and before that he’d stayed only once or twice if she’d had the odd nightmare. But even here, now, as they lay so close they shared the same pillow in her double bed, it still wasn’t the closest they'd been. She’d woken a few days ago to <em>him </em>holding onto <em>her</em>, his arms wrapped tightly around her as he nuzzled her shoulder. They searched for each other in the night; she often felt him reach out to her when she’d rolled away from him, and she would sometimes wake in the middle of the night and instantly realise he wasn’t <em>there</em>, attached to her in some way. Like she felt less like herself when they weren't touching. </p><p>“Do you <em>want</em> me to relax them?”</p><p>Her eyes snapped open to find he’d been watching her. She quickly scanned his expression as best she could, given their close proximity and the fact that she barely had any time to compose herself. He didn’t <em>look</em> nervous, he didn’t look afraid of what she might say. He was only curious, completely expressionless otherwise. She had absolutely no way of gauging a response, and she realised that was probably what he wanted. He was most likely keeping a face showing only objective curiosity in attempts to elicit the truth from her. </p><p>Oh god, it was happening. </p><p>To her utter horror, she whimpered. She always knew, in the completely ridiculously small chance <em>the Doctor</em> <em>would ask what she wanted, </em>she would be nervous, but she never thought she would be so visibly so she’d actually have <em>whimpered</em>. She laughed in response, suddenly very aware of her leg still wedged in-between his so she extracted it, and then becoming <em>even more aware</em> of <em>everything: </em>how sweaty her hands felt under this pillow, how <em>dry</em> her throat was, how awfully fast and hard her heart was thumping throughout her entire body, how she couldn’t think of any words and <em>then</em> how she couldn’t think of anything other than “<em>why can I not think of any words?</em>”, and then thinking about how she could manage to think those seven words but <em>no others</em>?!</p><p>“Hey,” he whispered, untangling his own hands to reach out and hold her still, which only made her even more uncomfortable. She kept giggling nervously<em> -</em> why couldn’t she stop <em>laughing?</em> She took a deep breath and he angled his face to meet her gaze. When she finally looked back at him nervously, he smiled, tugging gently at her hands. “It’s just me, yeah?”</p><p>She laughed, not so awkwardly this time thank goodness, and shook her head in embarrassment. He noted it and he chuckled, shuffling closer to her to nudge his nose against hers. </p><p>“Sorry,” she laughed nervously. “Don’t know what’s going on with me.”</p><p>“Oh it's alright, I have that effect on most people.”</p><p>“Ha! You wish.”</p><p>He pulled back to raise his eyebrow and he caught her, quicker to blush in their close proximity and the added warmth of her bed. She pointed her finger at him. “Stop it.”</p><p>He grinned and took her hand back, keeping his eyes on her as he distractedly played with her fingers. His gaze was soft, kind, just as it always was whenever it was focused on her. He was right; it was him, her best mate and his dorky grin, and she had nothing to be afraid of. </p><p>“I like being a bit closer with you, yeah.” She chewed her bottom lip as he continued to watch her calmly. He really wasn’t giving anything away, the bugger. She felt exposed. When he still didn't speak, she pushed on. “I like waking up to you.”</p><p>“I like waking up to you, too.”</p><p><em>Ha</em>! <em>There it was</em>! Her first insight, an indication of how he felt. It didn’t matter how physically close they could be, how intricately intertwined they might find themselves, she still couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t been just indifferent towards it, that he hadn’t just been more relaxed recently for whatever reason. “Except when you hog all the covers and I wake up freezing.”</p><p>“You give them to me!”</p><p>“I <em>give</em> them to you? You hearing yourself? What, I wake up in the middle of the night and say “<em>Merry Christmas</em>”?”</p><p>“You do! Well, you don’t say “<em>Merry Christmas</em>”, but you do kick them off in the night and push them to me,” he defended. “You’re a radiator when you sleep.”</p><p>She flapped her elbow, opening up the covers to let a bit of cool air in. “Ugh, I know. I’m such a bloody hot sleeper. It’s awful.”</p><p>He closed his eyes. “I don’t know. I think it’s nice.”</p><p>Her heart stuttered. Whilst they <em>had</em> been getting closer recently, and their conversations had opened a little more, <em>this</em> was something new. It was tantalising; she wanted <em>more</em>. They spent a few moments in comfortable silence, occasionally prodding each other with their feet and chuckling in response.</p><p>“What do <em>you</em> want?” she whispered quietly, cautiously. She made a very conscious effort to keep her eyes on his, to keep a calm composure while she asked him a question that could, quite frankly, change everything. </p><p>But she watched his pupils dilate and he blinked, and she <em>knew</em> she’d made a mistake. She wanted to chase it again, get back the warm glow of the morning she’d so pleasantly found herself waking up to but she felt is <em>so</em> quickly slip away. She’d misread the morning; she wanted to scream for ruining it. </p><p>He sighed, his inner torment palpable. “You make me want things I <em>can’t</em> <em>have</em>, Rose.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. "You make me want things I can't have."</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“You really think that of me?” His eyes flickered to focus back on hers. “I’ll lose you, it’ll be devastating but not to worry, I’ll find someone else shortly?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Well, maybe not to that extent, but, well, yeah.” She shrugged matter-of-factly. “Course. And I wouldn’t expect you to tell me otherwise. I know you’d be lying to me if you said I was the only person you’ve ever met who you’ve wanted all that stuff with, and I also know I won’t be the last.”</i>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dialogue prompt: "You make me want things I can't have."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her heart sank. “What?”</p><p>He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes in an anguished relief; a weight lifted off his shoulders, but the ache worsening as a result.</p><p>“No, I know. And I’m sorry,” he interjected, and she was surprised he was remaining so close to her, not pulling back like she would have expected him to. She realised that she’d had it all wrong: this was something, like for her, he’d wanted to address for so long. </p><p>She wished she were more capable of thinking straight in a moment that had caught her so completely off-guard because there was a silence so loud in a space between them so small that she wanted to make just about any sound to fill it. So she whispered the question on her mind she would have only ever dared to ask, if anything to fill that silence.</p><p>“What kind of things?”</p><p>He released his nose, shoving his hand once more under the pillow. She wanted to grab it and hold it, not only for him, but so that she too could have something to steady her. He shook his head and finally opened his eyes. He looked at her so helplessly, with so much yearning that she had to pretend they weren’t having <em>this</em> conversation, at <em>this</em> moment, just to keep herself from going mad. <em>Not an opossum, Rose. </em>He was watching her closely, and she realised to her surprise she had been keeping a relatively calm facade that in no way reflected her inner torment. It encouraged him to edge closer to her until the tips of their noses met once more.</p><p>“<em>All</em> of it, Rose,” he sighed quietly.</p><p>His voice was filled with such sorrow. <em>Focus on your breathing. Keep is steady, in and out. </em>“I didn’t know…” she started, paying careful attention to her words. “I didn’t know you wanted any of that.”</p><p>“No, I know, and I’ve been avoiding telling you, because what good would it do?” He pulled back so that they could see each other a little clearer. “But I do, I want all of it. I want… fish and chips on a windy day in Brighton, and, I don't know, adopt a rescue dog and go to Tesco at 2 in the morning to look at the board games and stationery, and rainy Sunday mornings where we don’t get out of bed until the afternoon-”</p><p>She laughed, easing a large part of her tension and he smiled in response. “We already do that."</p><p>“Well, I want to do it more,” he chuckled. “I want pub quizzes and New Years Eve parties and moaning at you for taking an age to get ready for your cousin’s wedding. I want to take a taxi at ungodly hours of the morning to the airport, and nipping down to the corner shop in pyjamas because we’ve run out of milk, and get excited about a Dualit toaster. I want somebody to ask us to be the godparents of their child and have fights about where to send our <em>own</em> kids to school.” He paused, and she held her breath. “And - don’t laugh! But I <em>want</em> to go to house viewings and get those carpets fitted and apply for the mortgage neither of us will get because our credit score would be <em>shocking</em>, and I want to pick out your grey hairs and have you pick out mine too.” </p><p>She tried to smile but she seemed incapable of doing anything except try to keep her heart beating, and even that she wasn’t doing a great job at. She reached out to put her hand to his cheek and he held it close, closing his eyes.</p><p>His voice wavered, but he tried his best to keep it under control. “But I also want to be able to wake up in the mornings and <em>not</em> worry about you getting older every time I do. Or worry about you or your mind degenerating and forgetting who I am, or worry about you dying in the most stupidly human way possible like a blood clot or a heart attack or pneumonia and I’d have even <em>less </em>time with you.”</p><p>Now <em>that</em> was something she couldn’t do for him. She knew he had always been protective of her, and he’d done it before when he’d sent her home, against her will, to keep her safe. As much as she hated it, she’d understood why he thought it was the right thing to do. But she’d never considered how there were so many other ways for him to lose her that were out of his control that perhaps the reason he did so was because it was something he <em>could</em> control.</p><p>“I’m so sorry I only have this life,” she whispered.</p><p>“Don’t be daft.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, smiling reassuringly back at her. “I wouldn’t change any of you.” </p><p>“Now I know for a fact you would.” </p><p>He nodded. “I probably would get rid of finding the occasional sock or jacket or bra discarded on the console room floor or the fact that you never get the clothes <em>out</em> of the washing machine, you only ever put them in. Oh, and I'd like to not be constantly picking out blonde strands of hair from my suit.” </p><p>She scoffed. “What about how <em>you</em> always soak the frying pan but then never clean it? Just leave it in the sink with manky water in it!” </p><p>“Get me a pair of rubber gloves, <em>then</em> I’ll clean it out.” </p><p>“Or, just leave me to do it, cos you know I always will.” </p><p>“See? The list of things I wouldn’t change about you is endless.” </p><p>She playfully flicked his nose and she received a small <em>“ow!”</em> in return. He took her hand back and stretched it out with his own, matching his palm to hers and extending their fingers out together.</p><p>“We can still have all of that stuff, you know,” she whispered, hopefully. “Well, besides the grey hairs.”</p><p>“Sometimes I think you might be right.”</p><p>“But?”</p><p>He sighed, his gaze floating to somewhere behind her. “Imagine it, Rose. Imagine knowing you’re going to lose someone, and not knowing when.”</p><p>“But, we all do. We meet someone, start something with them, build a life with them - whatever, and nobody knows when they’re going to lose the other. We just do our best with the time that we do have with them.”</p><p>“But if you find someone new, say at 20 years old, you marry them, have kids, all that. And you lose them in 4 years time, then you have 60 or so years to be without that person. Imagine having to spend <em>thousands</em> without them.”</p><p>“Oh come off it, give it 20 years, you’ll have found someone new. That’s how it works.”</p><p>“You really think that of me?” His eyes flickered to focus back on hers. “I’ll lose you, it’ll be devastating but not to worry, I’ll find someone else shortly?”</p><p>“Well, maybe not to that extent, but, well, yeah.” She shrugged matter-of-factly. “Course. And I wouldn’t expect you to tell me otherwise. I know you’d be lying to me if you said I was the only person you’ve ever met who you’ve wanted all that stuff with, and I also know I won’t be the last.”</p><p>He nodded slowly. “Maybe so, but that doesn’t make it any less real or important. And it certainly doesn't make it any easier to lose you.”</p><p>She blinked, then averted her gaze to their fingers, still doing their dance together. This morning had opened up a world of possibilities she never even dared herself to believe were within her reach; she was so close to everything she wanted, knowing that he felt the same way. It was true: they probably couldn’t do some of the things on that list and she wouldn’t <em>want</em> to choose renovating a cheap house over the rest of her life in the TARDIS anyway. But they could have more, they could <em>be</em> more and he was telling her he wanted that. But in the end, no matter what or how much he wanted, he didn’t want it as much as he wanted to <em>not</em> have it. Because, and this was the hard part: he didn’t want to lose it.</p><p>“But, all I can think about it how much it would hurt to know you didn't at least try, have it for even just a small part of your seemingly endless life.” </p><p>“Rose, one day I <em>will</em> lose you. And that’s going to - ” her heart skipped as she watched him hesitate, knowing that he was avoiding telling her just how much it was going to hurt. She took their morning of complete raw honesty as an opportunity to ask questions she wouldn’t usually.</p><p>“What, Doctor? You never say. I know it’s hard but, shouldn’t we at least talk about it? We can’t just keep going around knowing how hard it’s going to be for you to lose me but never really talking about it or how you’re going to deal with it.”</p><p>“It’s not that. Well, it is - I tend not to think about it as best I can. Because it’s going to be a pretty crap time all round,” he laughed, and she hated that she laughed too. “But you know me. I’m no stranger to grief and loss. It’s that I don’t want <em>you</em> to have to think about it.”</p><p>She could fight with him, show him this his problems are her problems too, but she was looking at a man who was only prolonging an inevitable grief, an agonising pain that is yet to come and he is utterly powerless to stop it, he only could wait. And she wanted to give him whatever comfort she could, while she still could and she could give him <em>more</em>, do more, they could be more than what they are now. </p><p>“Why not at least just <em>try?”</em></p><p>He closed his eyes. “Because I don’t want to lose you <em>and</em> have to lose everything else on top of that. It’s come to a point now where it’s either one, or both. And I don’t think I can handle losing both, Rose<em>.</em>” She opened her mouth to say something, but then couldn’t think what to say anyway. “I <em>know</em> how hard it is to lose both.”</p><p>His eyes were haunted and filled with sorrow. He’d never <em>ever</em> spoken about it. What he’d had, whether he had a wife, a husband, children, a mum, a dad, a brother or sister or cousins or any of it. He must have, and they both knew that he lost all of that. But he still never spoke of them, so hearing him only reinforce that picture in her mind was heartbreaking.</p><p>“I’m <em>so</em> sorry,” she whispered, closing her eyes to prevent the tears. “I didn’t -”</p><p>“It’s ok,” he said. She felt helpless, there was nothing she could say to help him. She released her breath as controlled as she could and he sighed at the sound, taking their still intertwined hands and shifting to lie on his back so he could watch them, fingers still tracing the other’s, moving and reacting to their partner’s. He stretched out her hand with his, aligning the tips of their fingers before moving his fingers down hers, tracing the creases of her palm.</p><p>“Too short.” He smiled sadly when he reached her lifeline, closing his fingers around hers and bringing their hands to his chest.</p><p>“I’d argue yours are too long.”</p><p>He chuckled. “Oh, you’re right about that.”</p><p>She watched him closely, trying to gauge how honest his smile was. She knew they’d been getting closer and their connection was deep, based entirely on mutual trust and emotional intimacy, but she saw it now for what it was; he was completely in love with her, in every aspect of the word. And she finally, wholeheartedly believed it. </p><p>“What happens next?” she whispered.</p><p>The question was far too vast for either of them, and there was a moment where he sucked in a breath before they both laughed at the absurdity of it all. She shuffled into his side, leaning her head on his chest and his arms found their way to hold her against him. </p><p>“I honestly don’t know,” he sighed, his fingers tracing intricate patterns on her arm. She listened to his hearts, beating faster than she was used to hearing. He’d surprised her in so many ways this morning, she’d never thought she’d ever see him be so honest and open and <em>vulnerable </em>with her. As much as she wondered how surprised she was, she wondered how he must be feeling right now. If the beating of his hearts were any indicator: he too was as nervous as she had been earlier.</p><p>She angled her head to kiss his neck. “Me neither. But I <em>do </em>know I could murder a cuppa right now.”</p><p>“Is that your way of asking me to make you a cup of tea?”</p><p>“Well, I <em>was </em>offering, but if that’s the way you want to see it and you’re fine with that, then I won’t stop you.”</p><p>She smiled in reply to his grin, settling her head back down against his chest. He continued with his repetitive motions across her arm while they rested in a comfortable, although sad, silence. </p><p>“You <em>are</em> different, Rose,” he whispered.</p><p>Rose had heard that line enough times that she’d learned to take it on face value. Jimmy had said once to her that she was the love of his life, that he’d never find anyone like her again and that she was different, and she’d believed him. Fat lot of good that did her, so she learned to guard her heart closer. So when Mickey said the same to her only a year later, she believed him, but cautiously. She believed even now that he meant it, and that she really was different to him, but in the end, Mickey will marry somebody else, another person who is <em>different, </em>so at some point, she becomes the same as every other of his loves. So when the Doctor told spoke those words, she accepted them but not the degree of their truth. Rose had been with enough boys to know that she wasn’t different, especially not to a <em>time lord</em>. She wished she could have given him a reply, but instead, she lay silent.</p><p>“I need you to know that. You saved my life, Rose Tyler. I guess in a sense, you already <em>have</em> given me forever,” he chuckled, she imagined trying to lighten the mood but only making it that much more heartbreaking. She didn’t trust her voice enough to give a verbal reply, so she nodded, giving him as much as a hum of understanding in response. She knew he didn’t believe her by his sigh and subsequent gentle kiss on her forehead. “So, I suppose the least I can do is get you a cup of tea.”</p><p>She laughed as she watched him awkwardly manoeuvre himself around her, his joints popping and bones creaking as he managed to stand on his feet.</p><p>“We need to get you some oil before you rust over entirely,” she teased.</p><p>“Oh, it’s a bit late for that now, I’m a gonner.”</p><p>“A lost cause.”</p><p>She sat up and he smiled sweetly at her, perching himself on the side of the bed to cup her face and press a chaste kiss to her forehead. Perhaps it was for the best that they stay as they are, she thought, because she didn’t think her heart could physically handle the intimacy of it all. He brought their foreheads together and sighed.</p><p>“A lost cause,” he agreed sadly. </p>
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